Thursday, June 16, 2011

blink (journal entry in line breaks)

I sit on the floor,my back against the sofa,taste of Ramen on my tongue.An ant crawls onto my right forearmfrom some mysterious crumb cavethat's been formingunder the furniturefor the seven yearsI've lived here.He is an outdoor ant, though.His queen probably sent him in as a scouton the hem of my jeansas I crossed the back threshold.

After I crush himinto two crunchy black pieces,I fling him into an empty box.

A New York congressman resignsover a new breed of scandal:sexting.I don't want to care.

I should have knownthat he would go downsince his words and charisma (and arrogance and ego)built hope in my chest(like those crumb caves under my furniture)when I heard him debatereactionary leaders.

I'm tired of the mediacreating the news,stampede of bare-chested imagesthat have nothing to dowith tomorrow.fuck it all.